


This Life We Make Anew

by significantowl



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: After Midland Circle, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, POV Elektra Natchios, Post-Defenders, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 06:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16320851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/significantowl/pseuds/significantowl
Summary: For the prompt: what if Elektra agreed to run with Matt before Midland Circle was destroyed?Lines ran deep in his face, like the cracks in the earth around them. He pleaded with her- We can still walk out of here -while dust and dirt settled into valleys carved by desperation; worse, settled into years of laugh lines and frown lines, well-remembered and well-loved.There were some things Elektra was unwilling to risk.“This way,” she said, turning, and Matthew held her hand as he followed.





	This Life We Make Anew

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Mattelektra Defenders Anniversary celebration on tumblr.

A memory: lying in his bed -

_(a place where she would feel safe, later, and warm, and loved; a place where she would almost find peace)_

\- pain wracking her body, her life spilling out of her gut. Matthew on his knees, his hands wrapped around hers, praying to his god while her blood stained his skin.

She’d been so cold. Matthew’s hands had been the only warmth left in the world.

He was right. She couldn’t kill him. 

He would never take the substance willingly. He had his own route to eternal life all mapped out, rightly or wrongly, a path set by catechism and prayer, and would never consider another way. He would dig in his heels, stubborn as ever -

A thousand tons of rubble would do the job for her in a few moments, if she let it. But it would break him in more ways than one… Elektra had seen the other side, and what waited there would freeze his veins and shatter his soul, spilling it at her feet like grains of sand.

Could she trust herself to catch them all? To hold them together, and help reshape them, as he'd done for her?

Lines ran deep in his face, like the cracks in the earth around them. He pleaded with her - _We can still walk out of here_ \- while dust and dirt settled into valleys carved by desperation; worse, settled into years of laugh lines and frown lines, well-remembered and well-loved.

There were some things Elektra was unwilling to risk. 

“This way,” she said, turning, and Matthew held her hand as he followed.

+

The explosion came before they made it to the surface. It rocked the narrow tunnel, and Matthew froze, swaying on his feet, expression twisted with pain.

For a moment, Elektra thought that he'd been hit, that in the next instant he would crumple and fall. Fury surged through her, lethally hot, and she gripped his shoulders. The substance was unreachable, at this point; failure lay heavy as dirt in her throat. If she lost him here, the world would _pay_ -

He shook his head like a dog coming out of water. “Okay,” he said. “I'm. I'm okay.”

It was the noise of the blast, Elektra realized, piercing his skull. “Steady, Matthew,” she said, and shifted her grip to his hand, leading the way around falling debris as they ran, heads low, up the long, steep incline toward the street.

When they hit the exit, an opening deep in the sub-basement of a building nearly a mile from Midland Circle, Matthew was still reeling. He leaned against the wall, panting, and Elektra stroked his cheek as his breathing slowed. “I’ll be back,” she said, and dropped a light kiss to his lips before running off to deal with a few essentials.

A little light looting from nearby stores netted fresh clothes for each of them, a wad of cash, and a gorgeous leather tote large enough to hold Matthew's red armor and her own outfit as well. By the time Elektra returned, Matthew had already stripped down to a black compression shirt and leggings, and was sitting cross-legged with his back against the wall.

“The helmet’s down at the bottom of that hole,” he said.

“I'm sure we can get you another one,” Elektra said. “If Daredevil survived, that is.” Matthew was silent; Elektra added, “Did he?

“I don't know.”

“I see. Did Matthew Murdock?”

“I don't - I don't know.” Not yet on his feet, he shrugged into the dark blue shirt she gave him, and began doing up the buttons. “But don’t worry, Elektra, I know who I am.” He tilted his head up towards her and smiled, achingly weary but tender and honest as a bruise. “Yours.”

+

A vision: fighting by his side - 

_(in the bare earth roads of a village half a world away; on the chaotic streets of New York; places where they had been young and frightened and powerless)_

\- strength surging through their veins, bodies alight with fierce grace. They are in motion, hot, fast, and alive. The people of the Hand foolish enough to remain in a village they had decimated all those years ago are fleeing, or paying the price. The criminals witless enough to continue wrecking lives in Hell’s Kitchen are wishing they'd never been born.

It was beautiful. It was waiting for them.

But Matthew would have to find his feet first, metaphorically and literally. Elektra crouched in front of him and skated her fingers through the sweaty hair at his temple. He leaned into her palm with a sigh, as if his head were too heavy for his neck, but safe in her care.

Even in the cold, dank sub-basement, Elektra suddenly felt warm. The heat kindled in the hollow of her hand, snug against Matthew’s cheek, and spread through her sharp and swift as wildfire. 

He was a fool to trust her. Anyone would say so. Stick certainly would have, had she not silenced his voice. _Their_ voices, hers and Matthew’s, were all that mattered now. She’d been drawn to trust him at a time when she didn't even know her own name. The rest of the world could mumble itself into the grave.

“We need to move,” Elektra said. The thought of going to Matthew’s apartment, impossible though it was, flashed through her mind, heady in its appeal. She shoved it away. There would be no sanctuary there tonight. 

“Do you have someplace in mind?” Matthew stood, using her hand for support as he rocked slightly on his heels.

The dirt caking his face and the film of grime she could feel on her own skin gave Elektra her answer. “I do,” she said. “Follow me.”

+

The pool was on the forty-eighth floor of a building overlooking Central Park. It was private. Silent. Lovely. Dark, polished marble lined the pool, and the water was lit from below, giving it a soft, blue-green glow. Warmth lapped at Elektra’s ankles as she took her first steps into the water; looking at Matthew, she saw approval in the instantly-softening lines of his face as he, too, stepped in.

“Good, isn’t it?” Elektra said. His lips quirked: _yes_.

The marble steps were wide. They sat side by side, with the water up to their chests. Elektra’s skin was bare; her clothes lay in a heap next to the pool. Matthew still wore his boxers, at least for now, but his torso was bare, and abrasions and cuts both old and new littered his skin.

Elektra frowned. She lifted a hand, reaching, pushing through the weight of the water…. It landed not on Matthew’s skin, but her own, fingertips tracing the indelible scar on her stomach. Proof that she, too, knew how to give. 

What had it felt like? Not in her body, but in her heart? The memory of _after_ was so brutally strong that the moments just _before_ shimmered in her mind like the stars on a cloudy night: visible only in patches, and desperately out of reach.

A soft, unhappy noise slipped from Matthew’s throat. Spreading her fingers wide, Elektra let them float up to the surface. The scar would always be there, an ugly marvel begging to be understood. Matthew, beautiful Matthew, would not.

She cupped Matthew’s cheek, her wet fingers painting slick lines on his face. He sank into her touch, lips falling open against hers, and when they kissed his mouth was as warm and enveloping as the water surrounding her. 

They parted, and Elektra pulled away. She pushed off from the steps, cutting deep into the water, feeling a rush of pleasure in the power of moving with strength and grace through a world she was never meant to inhabit. After skimming over the bottom of the pool, she rose up, performed a neat turn, and surfaced in front of Matthew. Her hair hung sleek and heavy against her back; light, clean beads of water dotted her face.

Dust and dirt still clung to Matthew’s, visible even in the room’s dim light. It made her think of graveyard soil and its heavy weight, pressing down and down and down. One day it would have him, yes, but not today. Today, he was hers.

“I didn't come here to swim alone,” Elektra said. She splashed him gently, and reveled in the droplets that landed on his cheek and cut fresh tracks through the dirt.

“Is that right?” Matthew didn't make a move, but he raised his eyebrows, and anticipation curled warm in Elektra's gut. One, she thought, two, three -

He dove forward, entering the water with a crisp splash. Despite her expectations, when the moment came, Matthew still took her by surprise: perfect. Elektra submerged, ignoring the sting in her eyes as she opened them beneath the water. She knew Matthew’s senses weren’t at their best in this sort of environment, but he still sliced through the water with ease - homing in on her, she realized. Even in this unfriendly element, even if her scent, her heat, and the sound of her breath were dulled, he knew his way to her.

Matthew reached for her, and she reached for him. When they broke the surface, they did it together, arms around each other’s necks, legs entwined. Elektra kissed his throat, his jaw, his lips, fresh and clean with all traces of earth washed away. He mapped her body with his broad, rough hands, and when she freed his mouth, throwing her head back, he whispered a litany of her name.

+

A beginning: a life anew - 

_(in a dark alley where just one word in his voice -_ Elektra _\- triggered a slow-motion tidal wave; in a cold cavern beneath Manhattan, the warm waters of a luxury pool on the Upper West Side, and all the days and nights to come)_

\- a life on their own terms, hers and Matthew's, exactly as they wished it to be.

A life made together.

**Author's Note:**

> always flailing about mattelektra at [tumblr](http://significantowl.tumblr.com)! I may not manage a fic for every prompt I get, but my askbox is always open :)


End file.
